


doesn't the night go slow

by spritewrites (giggly__gay)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, No Spoilers, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28927383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giggly__gay/pseuds/spritewrites
Summary: Simon Snow has nightmares. Baz knows what to do.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	doesn't the night go slow

Simon Snow has nightmares.

I suppose it doesn’t seem too surprising, on the face of it. He’s certainly been through enough to warrant them. They used to come less often, when we were in school; I’d get woken up about every month or two. Now, it’s more like a few times a week.

Simon Snow doesn’t get those gasping, bolt-upright, sweaty nightmares. He’ll seem to be sleeping normally, and then suddenly he’ll be shaking and sobbing beneath the blankets. It’s the motion that wakes me now, more than anything else. The quivering. He jumps when I touch his back, turning wide, frightened blue eyes to meet mine. I didn’t used to comfort him. In school. Now I can.

He doesn’t like to talk about them, but I know that comfort helps. Holding him, mostly. Rubbing his back and his hair, whispering to him. Sometimes it doesn’t take more than a few minutes before he’s back to sleep. Sometimes he’s crying till morning. Tonight isn’t either of those.

He woke me around midnight, and I didn’t say anything. I offered my arms to him, and he climbed in gratefully, shivering and sniffling. _It just takes time_ , I thought to myself, breathing him in. _He can get himself sorted._

Now, it’s been a few hours. The crying has stopped, and the shaking, and his breath is steady in my hair. I almost think he’s asleep, but every so often he clutches me tighter. He needs this, I think, even though he’d never say it. He needs me. Just the thought makes my chest hurt with love.

Once he’s evened out like this, he just likes to lay in the quiet. Sometimes we’ll have a proper cuddle, or he’ll kiss me before he drifts off back to sleep. He likes when I kiss him, too. Reminds him that I’m here, I think. That I love him. Which is good, because I do. So much.

I press a kiss to the mole on his shoulder, and the skin beneath my lips twitches. I kiss him once more, just to see that again, and he shivers.

“Baz.”

“Hm?” I look up. Simon’s eyes are closed, and he doesn’t reply - just shifts in my arms.

I don’t kiss him again, not yet anyway. He can be tricky, on nights like these. Doesn’t talk much, just clings and breathes. I don’t want to scare him off.

I take a risk and brush a hand through his curls. In the dark, I can only just make out the shine. He huffs a breath into my neck, warm and soft. Just like him.

I start to say something - maybe his name - but he pulls me closer, smushing my nose into his shoulder. The warm smell of him fills my nose, spicy and familiar, and I almost melt.

“Sorry, I thought you didn’t want—” I start to mumble into his skin, then stop when his skin twitches again.

“Just don’t move too much,” he whispers. His words are slurred with sleep. “Tickles.”

I immediately disobey by letting my smile grow wide against his shoulder. He squirms.

“ _Baz_.”

He sounds mildly annoyed, but I’ve listened to the Mage’s Heir run his mouth enough that I can recognize the amused laugh behind his teeth. Honestly, it’s almost a whine. Poor thing.

He should whine my name more often.

“Sorry,” I say finally, lifting my face out of the crook of his collarbone. I can’t help the grin on my face. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Sure, you didn’t.” His eye roll is understandable, but I push my tongue into my cheek anyway. I’m not good at innocent eyes; intimidating glares are more my thing. (If I were good at faking innocence, maybe Snow wouldn’t have committed so hard to the whole “plotting” thing for seven years.)

“I’m not going to tickle you.”

“I know.”

“That’s not really the tone of the evening.”

“I know.”

“Tickling you would be rather selfish, and I plan on devoting tonight to taking care of you however I can.”

His lip twitches in amusement. “I know.”

“It’s just—” I’m choking on a laugh; I can’t help it— “shoulders are such an _adorable_ place to be ticklish.”

Simon doesn’t reply, just presses his forehead to mine. He’s smiling. If nothing else, my nonsense has restored the swell of rose in his cheeks. I take a chance and kiss his beautiful pink mouth, just once, quick, before he can stop me. The moonlight dances across his face, dyeing it shades of blue and grey.

“I love you, Simon Snow.”

He snorts. “I’m getting you back in the morning.”

“For the teasing or the tickling? Or the kissing?”

“Any of it. All of it.”

“Well,” I smirk, scratching at his scalp and receiving a hum of approval. “Good luck. Pitches aren’t ticklish.”

“We’ll see about that,” he murmurs, and he’s drifting off before I can even begin to turn over the implications of his words in my brain. Well. I suppose that’s a problem for Morning Baz.

I kiss his curls, closing my eyes and listening to him fall asleep. Exhaustion tugs at me, as well, and I can feel myself slipping out of consciousness. “Goodnight, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: spritewrites


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